


A true hero

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blackmail, Coercion, Cousin Incest, F/M, Gift Exchange, Jonsa Gift Exchange, Robb and Sansa are the only Stark kids, hercules au, mostly disney version than mythical version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: Hercules AU for the Jonsa gift exchange - myths and fairy tales theme.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zip001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zip001/gifts).



> Okay so I will probably need to go over this and tidy it all up because man, the week between my exams finishing and the deadline went waaaay too fast!

Petyr was livid. There was no other way to describe it.

It should be him up here in the Olympus throne room with Catelyn by his side. But instead, she had given her immortal life to be with a mortal with the blessing of Robert, the King of the Gods.

And Varys, the little sneak had whispered of Petyr’s jealousy, made the warning bells go off in dear Robert’s head that gave the man enough cause to send Petyr away to control the underworld so as to keep him away from bothering Cat in her new life.

It had been Catelyn who had begged for mercy, begged Robert not to kill her oldest friend but to give a merciful punishment. Robert had loved Catelyn like a sister and had granted her wish.

And that had made Petyr even more angry. Catelyn’s pity was worse than her disinterest in him romantically.

To make it worse still, Robert and his wife Lyanna had just had a new-born son, a boy who already possessed amazing strength. And when Petyr entered the room, he scowled at the fact that Lyanna was smiling adoringly down at the bundle in her arms

 _It should have been mine_! Petyr though darkly, leaning against the pillar as he watched the celebrations. _This should all have been mine and Cat’s._

“We would like to thank everyone for their wonderful gifts,” Robert called out before looking to Arya, a crease between his brows as his eyes moved to the sword she had gifted the boy. “Although I don’t know if he needs a sword quite yet.”

Arya shrugged. “Best to be prepared,” she stated simply.

“What about our gift dear?” Lyanna asked, turning her gaze away from her son to give her husband a confused look.

“Oh, well…” he paused, glancing around him and rubbing his beard.

“A dragon!” Arya piped up enthusiastically. Robert frowned.

“What would he do with a bloody dragon?” he retorted. “He can have a dog and be happier for it.”

“Or perhaps a direwolf,” Lyanna replied softly, gazing in amusement at her husband. “It is a sigil of my family after all.”

Robert rubbed his beard in thought before giving a curt nod. He grabbed a handful of cloud and swirled the wisps until it took the shape of a wolf pup. Lyanna placed Jon in the crib beside her.  Robert moved to lean over the side, holding the bundle over the edge. The babe made a gurgling noise as a wolf’s head popped out of the clouds. The beast shook itself then, the cloud disappearing to reveal a white pup no bigger than Robert’s hand.

“Jon,” Robert said softly, smiling as the wolf leaned forward to sniff at the boy. Jon’s hand reached out, curling around the wolf’s front left paw. “This is Ghost.”

Ghost stepped out of Robert’s hands then, tentatively stepping across the sheets of Jon’s crib until he settled by Jon’s side. Through the bars, everyone could see as Ghost licked Jon’s cheek and the babe turned to hug the beast close. A collective aww ran through the room and Petyr rolled his eyes before turning to leave.

One day, he thought darkly, shooting one last murderous look over his shoulder at the happy scene, he would have his revenge. This would all be his and the high lordly Gods would beg for his forgiveness and mercy.

The seer, Maggy the Frog had foretold his victory. It would take years to gather the titans of Bravos, to train them back up to their full strength and potential but it would be done. He would lead them here, to the gates of Olympus and take the throne at last.

Maggy had warned him of Jon’s role though. The boy would grow to be the strongest of all men, even stronger than most Gods. And if he were to fight with his father and the Gods against the titans, Petyr’s plan would fail.

Luckily, he knew how to deal with such a problem. Gods couldn’t be killed, they were immortal. But they could be turned mortal and then, well, it would be easy to get rid of a mortal baby as far as Petyr was concerned.

And so, he had the seer make a powerful potion for him, powerful enough to rid Jon of his immortality. In exchange, she would have her soul returned to her, allowing her to walk free from his service and back to her family who awaited her.

He had spares anyway, others he could get to do his dirty work for him. Some needed persuading, a reminder of the deals they had made and the power he had over them. Others had a thirst for the more despicable deeds. Ser Gregor was one of those people.

But then there was Aerys, a God with a thirst for death and destruction. In truth, Petyr felt that he should have been running the underworld. Instead, Petyr had offered him the throne of Westeros. Together, they would rule both Gods and mortals. If Aerys had needed any further persuasion, that had been enough.

In the dead of night, Petyr instructed the man to take the child and feed him the potion. Once he had finished it, every last drop, Aerys was to kill the child and dispose of the body somehow. It mattered not to him how it was done.

***

The harvest had taken longer than usual this year.

Normally, Ned had started gathering the grain by the first weeks of autumn. But the rains had come earlier than expected, making it difficult for the crops to reach their full growth and even harder to maintain the field.

It was a quiet evening, the sun setting and bathing the world in a gentle orange glow. He smiled softly as he thought of how often he used to meet Cat here. Her hair always used to catch the sunlight, a copper glow that he could not help but gaze for hours at.

They would spend hours beneath the stars. She, giggling and whispering sweet words in his ear. He had not been nearly as confident as her, often just flushing at her attention and listening to her talk, her gentle voice bringing a smile to his face every time.

And now she was his, completely. She had given up her immortal life to be with him in Westeros but in her belly, was a new life of their first child.

He had just bundled up a new barrel of wheat when he heard it, the sharp cry of a babe. Frowning, he turned towards the forest where the sound had come from. He placed the grain down and slowly edged towards the trees, hand on the handle of his dagger.

A man was holding a baby in his arms. But the infant was struggling something fierce, its head turning away every time the man tried to feed it from the flask he carried.

Ned frowned in concern, knowing full well that the hold on the child was too aggressive. And the man seemed to be purposely trying to feed the infant. And as he finally got it between the babe’s lips, tilting it back so it started to flow easily down the child’s throat, Ned knew something wasn’t right.

Picking up a stone, he threw it to the side. When it hit the water, the man started as Ned predicted he would. The flask fell to the floor, the last drop of potion hitting the ground and leaving a smoky trail in its wake.

The babe started to cry again and the man cursed, looking around him in panic. He set the child down, his back to Ned, who grabbed his dagger in preparation.

The man’s body convulsed violently, the force sending him to his knees. Ned took a step back in shock, his fingers slipping away from his weapon as his eyes glued to the scene. The babe’s cries grew louder still as bones cracked like a whip in the quiet night.

Ned watched in horror as the man’s neck stretched out, his face elongating into a snout. Smoke rings blew from his nostrils as he stepped forward on one large, clawed foot. The dragon, as he was now, tilted his head back and screeched. Whether in pain from the transformation or to strike yet more fear into the infant, Ned didn’t know.

His heart was screaming to save the child, his head telling him to look away and run. A dagger was no use against a dragon. And yet, Ned couldn’t look away at all. Not even as the dragon’s jaws opened above the child and descended down.

The child screamed, his hand reaching up in useless defense. But as his hand hit the soft underbelly of the beast, it let out a terrible scream that made Ned’s blood run cold. It tipped onto it’s side, body and head writhing in pain. Its red eyes were dark with fear as they suddenly fell on Ned.

If it hadn’t been for the fact he had been about to murder a child, Ned would have felt sorry for him and the pain he was clearly going through.

He moved quietly from his spot as the dragon gave another snort of pain. Stepping over the head, Ned leaned down to pick the still crying child up. Grey eyes, Lyanna’s eyes, blinked up at him, the cries softening into gurgles.

Somehow, he knew this was Lyanna’s child.

“Shh,” he murmured soothingly as he secured the child in his arms. “Its alright now.”

It was completely dark as he reached his farm house. Catelyn was outside the door, body tight with worry. Ned smiled guiltily as he approached, knowing she must have been frantic with the sounds nearby and the fact he had taken much longer than usual to return home from the fields. Her hand was rubbing her belly where their child grew as she blinked down at the one in his arms.

“Lyanna’s boy,” he whispered. Her eyes widened at the news but she gave a slow nod, a smile coming to her as the boy turned his head and made an almost giggling sound.

“He is a mortal now,” Catelyn said as she took the child and peered down at him. She pursed her lips and frowned. “Who would turn him mortal?”

“There was a bloody dragon involved,” Ned muttered, flopping into one of the chairs by the fire and holding his head in his hands.

Catelyn’s brow furrowed in concern as she spared a glance to her husband and then back down at the boy. She cooed softly as she balanced him in one hand and reached for a blanket with the other. Ned watched in fascination as she wrapped the babe in the bundle one handed. To his even greater wonder, the boy did begin to quieten.

“Jon,” Catelyn said suddenly, causing Ned to shake himself from the daze he had been in just watching his wife be so motherly.

“Pardon?”

“His name,” Catelyn responded gently, smiling softly down as the child, Jon, began to close his eyes. “Lyanna wanted to name her son Jon, I remember.”

“Jon,” Ned repeated, standing and crossing over to his wife. His hand braced her shoulders as he peered down in adoration. “Welcome to the family.”


	2. 16 years later

Jon wished he could be helping Ned in the field or practicing archery in the forest with Robb.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love Sansa as much as Robb. She was his sister in name if not by blood and, in truth, her passion for life and her ability to appreciate such beautiful things was quite admirable to him. It was just, the way she was adored by everyone, and rightly so, he admitted. She was pretty and full of life, always happy and kind to everyone she met. But it left a bitter taste in his mouth all the same. For he had never truly felt that he fitted in here with his more brooding nature. Plus, he always seemed to be in accidents or causing damage to something as he forgot his own strength sometimes.

At most, Sansa would edge as far away as possible from him so as not to be embarrassed. It was a little hurtful but he understood what it was like for a pretty twelve-year-old girl to be seen with her miserable, clumsy and loner brother who everybody seemed to hate because he was a walking disaster.

Sansa had never really been mean to him though. She just wanted to protect her own reputation. He understood that. She hated the farm and had no desire to live her life in such a way. Her eyes were firmly set on Joffrey, the son of the Athens ruler and the glamourous life that came with him. Jon had told himself over and over that it was not his business what Sansa wanted to do with her life. And yet, some part of him had never believed anyone to be good enough for her.

Sometimes, in his dreams, he would just be sitting with her in the grass, like Ned and Cat did sometimes. He always woke almost immediately after the scene began, Sansa's sweet smile turned towards him lingered in his memory for the rest of the day when that happened. He had never dared acknowledge what it meant, even if a dark part of him already knew.

Today, Jon had been told to accompany Sansa to the market so she could buy something for her three and ten birthday. He had been in his own world as she chatted about how Joffrey had commented on how pretty her dress was and how he liked her hair in the more elaborate braids that had become the new fashion.

Jon had followed a little behind her as she winded through the crowds. People gave him wary looks as he passed and Jon couldn’t help but grimace. The last time he had been here he had accidentally destroyed one of the buildings when he had blindly run into one of the pillars.

Sansa looked radiant as she beamed and chatted to the sellers. The sun caught her hair beautifully, giving it a coppery glow. Sometimes, Jon would have to shake himself when he realised he had been staring at her hair too long.

“Sansa!”

Jon turned at the sound of Joffrey’s demanding voice. Immediately, his eyes narrowed and his lips down-turned. He didn’t understand why but he had never liked Joffrey much. Sansa, on the other hand, blushed prettily and smiled as he approached.

“Come and walk with me,” Joffrey demanded, nudging Jon roughly with his shoulder as he passed.

“Sansa,” Jon warned, stepping forward slightly. “Catelyn said - ”

“She’s a woman grown almost,” Joffrey interrupted, leering at Sansa’s chest. Jon bristled, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. “My lady love doesn’t need to worry about her mother’s orders. Especially if I command her.”

Joffrey offered her his arm then. She sent a nervous look to Jon before taking it.

“Please don’t tell mother,” she whispered.

“Yes bastard,” Joffrey sneered. “Be a good boy and keep your sister’s secret!”

Jon glared, baring his teeth like a wolf caught in a trap. Joffrey had always delighted in calling Jon a bastard despite there being no truth to it. But the whole town knew Jon had been found as a babe by Ned and rumours had spread like wildfire and before long, people believed Jon had been abandoned by his mother in shame because he had been born a bastard.

The Starks were the only ones who truly knew of Jon’s parentage and the reason he had been found the way he had been. Still, it hurt to have to deal with people’s wrong assumptions.

Jon watched as Joffrey led Sansa away. Sansa looked over her shoulder with soft eyes, mouthing an apology. When Sansa turned back around, Joffrey threw Jon a vicious smirk before they were swallowed by the crowd.

He jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Joffrey’s guards behind him – Meryn Trant, Sandor Clegane and Ilyn Payne, who currently grasped Jon’s shoulder. Wrenching it away, he glared at the three men, watching warily as they circled around him.

“Lord Joffrey needs time alone with his lady,” Trant drawled, sending Jon a lecherous grin.

“He better not touch her!” Jon growled back.

Without thinking shoved the man away. It had barely been a push to Jon, but it still sent Trant stumbling backwards with such a force he practically flew through the air for a second and then fell harshly on his back.

Before the others could react, Jon turned and ran. In his haste, he bumped into people and sent them tumbling to the ground. He crashed into several stalls too, calling out apologies as he tried to outrun Joffrey’s men, who he knew would be pursuing him.

He leapt up onto a carriage as it passed, swinging his body into the cart. Landing on the hay with a grunt, he exhaled in relief. It was only as his heart started to calm that he realised he had no idea where this was going to take him. But with the men still around, he couldn’t risk peering over the side until he was out of the marketplace.

He would have to lie in wait a little longer and just hope that he would make it home and that Sansa and the Starks wouldn’t be punished too harshly for his behaviour.


	3. Becoming a hero

Robert’s temple stood proudly on the hill overlooking the town below.

Jon stared up at it in wonder, casting a nervous glance back along the path.

By the time he had been able to look over the edge to see where he was being taken, the cart had picked up speed. When it stopped at the inn along the path, Jon had hoped out and immediately seen Robert’s temple.

He knew Robert and Lyanna were his parents, Ned had told him so as a child. Perhaps, it was time to acknowledge his heritage, he thought. He seemed to be in trouble all the time here and other than the Starks, he felt like he had no place, no home and no sense of belonging. He had always wanted to be part of a true family but he had been ripped away from his real parents and while the Starks treated him well, the townspeople never let him forget that he was not a true Stark.

Inside, the temple, the torches were lit, three on each side. Jon stared in awe at the huge statue before him. Robert looked so proud and powerful in his throne. Despite knowing he was his son, Jon couldn’t help but feel nervous as he approached.

“Father,” he whispered as he knelt before the statue. “Tell me what I should do. Where do I belong?”

Instantly, the ground trembled beneath him. Jon leapt to his feet, glancing around in panic as the walls shook around him.

And then, there was a cracking sound and Jon looked on in horror as the statue of Robert shook his head as though stirring from a daydream and then fixed his gaze upon him.

“My son!” he bellowed, a loud laugh echoing around them before he extended a large stone hand towards Jon, who stared in horror. “You have come to me at last!”

Jon felt himself beginning to sway, his eyes rolling back before Robert grabbed him by the back of his tunic and shook his whole body.

“Don’t be doing that now lad!” he guffawed, dropping Jon into his other outstretched palm. “We’re on a limited timescale!”

“How?” Jon blurted, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m a God,” Robert responded with a simple shrug. He waved his other hand to indicate moving the topic along before doing just that. “Anyway, I’m glad you’ve come.” His voice grew softer then as he looked down at Jon with a fond expression. “You do know that Lyanna and I loved you, still love you very much, don’t you?”

Jon nodded, not knowing what else to say or do. Catelyn had assured him that she knew Lyanna and Robert and she had no doubt of how distraught they would have been at losing him. She had told him of the night he was found and how lightning and thunder had erupted all across the sky with Robert’s rage when he must have discovered Jon missing.

“I just wish I could be one or the other,” Jon sighed, sitting cross-legged in his father’s stone palm and gazing up at him. “I’m not a God, I can’t live with you and mother. But I’m not a Stark either and as much as they love me, I don’t feel like I belong there either.”

“Well,” Robert said slowly. “There is a way you could come home.”

“There is?” Jon asked, leaping to his feet in excitement.

“It could take years still to be ready,” Robert warned him. “But if you can become a true hero, you can become a God again and return here.”

“A true hero,” Jon whispered in awe. Grinning, he nodded enthusiastically before stopping and frowning in puzzlement. “How do I do that?”

“Seek out Theon Greyjoy,” Robert replied simply. “He’ll train you in fighting and skills.”

“Right,” Jon replied. “I won’t let you down.”

“Hang on!” Robert said suddenly as he placed Jon back on the ground. “Every hero needs a faithful companion!”

He pressed his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply. Jon turned to see a shooting star race across the sky before it was suddenly moving down, down down, right towards them. Jon stepped back instantly but paused when the light burst and a white wolf stood in its place.

It padded up to Jon and sniffed curiously, red eyes holding his own gaze.

“You probably don’t remember Ghost,” Robert explained. “But he was a gift from us on your nameday.”

Jon smiled as Ghost’s cold nose touched his knuckles before he gave a quick lick. Jon felt a comfort just being near the beast.

“Thank you,” he whispered to his father. “I’ll return home to say goodbye to the Starks and then will go and find Theon.”

***

He knew that it would be sad to leave the Starks but he had been surprised at the tears all round. His own, Ned’s and Robb’s particularly.

Catelyn had hugged him fiercely and insisted on him waiting until she had sorted him with food and a warm cloak before he would set off.

Robb had clapped him on the shoulder before hugging him too, telling him that when he became a God, he might come and ask some favours.

“You can make me really handsome right?” Robb chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “So, I can get a pretty girl?”

“I doubt you would have much trouble there anyway,” Jon replied warmly.

Ned had hugged him too, reminding him that he was a Stark to him and that he loved him like a son. It had set Jon off all over again.

Sansa had been quiet in the background, her eyes watery with the tears she was holding back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, throwing her arms around him.

“It isn’t your fault,” he assured her. “I would need to leave anyway. I have to try and figure out where I fit in.”

She nodded in understanding, wiping her eyes in a way that usually she would be horrified at.

When he had been ready to leave a couple of days later, Sansa had come up to him again.

“Be careful,” she said softly before giving him a tissue with a dire wolf stitched on. “I made this for you. So, you remember that you’re a Stark to me.”

“Thank you, Sansa,” he replied warmly, tucking the cloth safely in his bag. He stepped back onto the path, sending them one last wave. “I’ll visit again, I promise!”

***

Jon followed Ghost as the beast led him through the woodlands.

His father had assured him that Ghost would know how to find Theon but as the hours passed, Jon was beginning to doubt.  
It was almost nightfall before there was the sound of human voices in the air, making Jon think that they were perhaps in the right place after all.

Peering around a broken pillar, he spotted a man in the water with a couple of women. Without thinking about what he might be walking into, he stepped out.

“I’m looking for Theon Greyjoy?” Jon asked hesitantly.

The man grinned and stepped out of the water. “How can I help you?”

Jon yelped and clapped a hand over his eyes as he realised the man was naked.

“I want to be a true hero!” he replied.

“Sorry kid, I’m retired.”

Jon peeked out between his fingers, sighing in relief as the man covered himself. Reaching forward he took Theon’s hand to try and get his attention. Immediately, Theon yelped as Jon gripped his hand.

“Sorry!” Jon gasped sheepishly as he released him. He bit his lip nervously as he watched the man shake his hand in the air a few times.

“My favourite hand!” Theon mumbled, pouting down at it before glaring at him. Ghost sniffed curiously and Theon jerked back in surprise. He glared at Jon again. “I can’t help you!”

“But I need to become a hero so I can return home. My father is Robert,” he explained, pointing up at the sky. “And he told me only Gods can live on Mount Olympus and…”

“Whoa, hold on!” Theon interrupted, holding his hand up to silence Jon. “Robert? The big guy?” He pointed up at the sky as well as though Robert were suddenly to appear. “He’s your Dad?”

Jon nodded. Theon was silent for a second before his laughter suddenly erupted across the night air. Jon frowned as the man doubled over and clutched his stomach.

“What? It is the truth!” Jon snapped. Ghost growled a warning, taking a menacing step forward, but Theon continued to laugh.

“I…I can’t!” Theon began, trailing off into yet more laughter that had him rubbing his eyes. “Your dad!” He descended into another bout of laughter.

Ghost snarled again. And then, all Jon saw was a flash of white before the beast had knocked Theon to the ground, great paws pinning him down as he bared his teeth. The woman screamed and scattered. Theon stared wide-eyed into Ghost’s growling face.

“Call him off!” he shrieked, voice high with panic.

“Say that you will help me!”

“I can’t!” Theon cried.

“Go for the balls Ghost,” Jon stated calmly. Theon screamed, throwing his hands down to his crotch.

“Alright, alright!” Theon yelled, squeezing his eyes shut.

Ghost immediately jumped away, padding proudly to Jon’s side. Jon reached down and patted his head in praise as the dire wolf sat calmly by his feet.

“Sheesh,” Theon commented as he sat up and sent a murderous look to Jon and Ghost. “I hate Gods.”

“So, when do we start?” Jon replied eagerly. Theon sighed, pushing himself to a stand and brushing the dirt off of his clothes.

“Right now kid,” he stated simply, a spiteful grin spreading across his face before he pointed to the floor. “Drop and give me fifty.”

***

It was the sound of Ghost’s terrible howling that woke him. The wolf had never uttered a sound around Jon other than the time he had met Theon two years ago. And if that hadn’t been strange enough, a sudden raging thunder and lightning suddenly painted the sky.

Jon leapt from his bed and stared out of his window in wonder and slight fear. What had angered his father so much? Why was Ghost so upset?

It wasn’t until hours later, after Theon’s visit to the marketplace that he found out.

“Some huge fire on a farm on the edge of Athens. The whole family was killed apparently.”

Despite being miles from the Starks, Jon had started to run. He had been so panicked, knowing it was them, that all he had been able to think was that he had to get there.

Theon had called after him in surprise. Ghost had followed faithfully until Jon had been forced to give up and collapse on the forest floor.

“What is wrong with you?” Theon panted, skidding to a halt beside him. Ghost whined, pressing his nose to Jon’s cheek. He felt the roughness of his tongue lick the tears which had started to fall.

“It was my family, I know it,” Jon mumbled, voice hitched with grief. Ned, Catelyn, Robb, Sansa. Who would ever want to hurt them. “I should have trained harder. I should have gone to help them. I…I should have died with them!”

“Kid,” Theon sighed sadly, pressing a hand to Jon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.”

Jon nodded slowly. It felt like hours that they sat there, silent except for Jon’s soft sobs. Eventually, Jon composed himself enough to stand, though he had to lean on Ghost for support. The wolf licked his hand slowly and nudged his head into Jon’s hip in a show of comfort.

“I want to test my progress,” Jon stated firmly. “I want to prove I’m a hero, for them. I want them to see, wherever they are, that I made it.”

Theon was silent for a moment before nodding. “Alright, we’ll head to Thebes in a couple of days.”

***

Two years ago, Sansa would have trembled at the shrieks of dragons. She would have cried at the sight of blood.

But that was before she had watched Joffrey’s men murder her father, mother and brother.

She knew she had loved Joffrey. She knew what love felt like because she had felt it before, even with someone she shouldn’t have. But, she had trusted Joffrey too. And he had taken her trust and repaid her with the lives of her family members.

Now, she barely batted an eyelid at the violence and bloodshed around her as two dragons tore into each other in the pit below. Part of her wondered if it was just the result of what she had witnessed or whether selling her soul to Petyr had made her even more indifferent.

As if hearing himself in her thoughts, she caught the scent of mint before he appeared behind her, watching gleefully as the dragons fought each other.

“Only the strongest will do,” he explained. “I need the strongest members in my army.”

Sansa remained silent. She didn’t really care about the grand plan Petyr was scheming. She had been a stupid girl with stupid dreams and too stupid to think properly when faced with a problem. .

She had convinced herself that she loved Joffrey too. His mother had always treated Sansa with suspicion. And when Joffrey took ill it was a mix of her mistaken feelings and the fear of not knowing what would happen to her that drove her into Petyr’s waiting arms.

All he had said was that he could help Joffrey. She had been too frantic to ask what he would want in exchange and eagerly accepted. But then as he prevented Joffrey’s death, he had taken his price - Sansa’s eternal servitude.

And now, she was required to do whatever he needed, whatever it took to secure his army for his grand scheme of becoming King of the Gods.

"Secure those giants for me dearest," he murmured, patting her cheek affectionately.

***

"So Thebes is a standing disaster," Theon commented lightly as they wandered down the dusty road that led into the city. "We'll have you declared a hero and returned home in no time!"

Jon nodded eagerly, his head swinging in all directions as he tried to take in his surroundings. 

Ghost stopped suddenly, ears standing to attention as he stared dead ahead into the woodlands to the left of the road. Before Jon could ask what was wrong, Ghost had bound away, charging forward and disappearing into the trees. Jon opened his mouth to call after him but his shout was muffled by Theon's hand.

"Don't!" he hissed. "Your mutt might have been warning us of danger. We'll follow him quietly and slowly."

He removed his hand and, pressing a finger to his lips, stepped away from Jon. Ghost hadn't gone far. He was lying flat on a large rock which overlooked a clearing. His teeth were bared but no sound came out as his eyes were fixed firmly on whatever he was watching. Jon climbed up as slowly as he could, careful not to make any noise.

He almost let go in shock when her red hair caught the sun as she turned her head and Sansa's face was clear as day before him. But he had no time to even acknowledge how she could be alive for his attention was taken by the giant which was advancing towards her.

"Ah, damsel in distress. Classic," Theon whispered as he appeared on Jon's other side. "Okay, so don't rush in, just - no, wait!"

But Jon had already unsheathed his sword and slid down the slope until he reached Sansa's side. She stared at him in shock, her hands flying to her mouth as her wide blue eyes raked over him.

"Get behind me!" Jon commanded, eyes back on the giants. Sansa didn't move. "Sansa!"

He turned and picked her up quickly. The suddenness made her squeak and she squirmed in his grasp. "No, Jon, you don't understand!"

He cupped her cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "I'll protect you, I promise!"

She shouted his name again in panic but Jon had already charged for the nearest giant. Ghost howled above him, Theon shouted instructions "your other left!" which just distracted him and earned him a few nasty cuts on his arms and legs as he skirted across rocks to avoid a hit from a giant.

"Stop it!" Sansa cried. "Stop Jon. You're ruining everything!"

But Jon's blood was up and all he could think of was how he had failed the Starks. He barely acknowledged Sansa's words as he cut through the back of one giant's knees, the strength in his swing causing more damage than he had intended. He heard Theon make a disgusted noise and Sansa's shriek but still, all that mattered in that moment was protecting her. He had failed her once, he wouldn't ever do so again.

He spun around quickly, driving his sword through the stomach of the other giant as it charged for him. Thanks to his strength, the steel speared through the tough flesh and the giant howled in pain. Jon wrenched the sword back out and, panting, turned towards Sansa as she sat on a rock, her eyes wide with shock and her hand on her chest.

"Jon," she whimpered, her limbs shaking as she stood.

His sword clattered to the ground as he ran towards her. His arms wrapped around her waist and clung to her back as he lifted her off the ground. Her own arms wound around his neck and he felt the tension leave her body with a soft sob.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered, clinging her tighter against him. "Gods Sansa, how are you alive?"

"Joffrey killed them," she sobbed into his neck as her nose buried against his pulse. Suddenly she tensed and squirmed in his arms. "Jon, you have to go!"

"What?" he blurted as he set her down. "No, I won't leave you!"

"I'm fine," she replied, already stepping briskly away from him. She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder. "I have to go, my...my friend is waiting."

"Sansa!" he cried, beginning to run after her before Theon crossed his path.

"Whoa, Thebes is that way. You did your hero thing here!"

"But, she's my sis...Sansa is important to me!" Jon insisted, trying to dodge around him but Theon wouldn't budge.

"You heard her!" he stated simply, pointing over Jon's shoulder. "Now get!"

Jon glowered, making a mental note to have Ghost eat one of Theon's shoes tonight as he reluctantly turned and headed towards Thebes.


	4. I won't say I'm in love

She had hoped to be able to come up with some excuse by the time she returned to Petyr but her mind seemed incapable of taking anything in other than the fact that Jon was alive and, apparently, achieved his dream of becoming a hero. Or at least training to be one.

But if he became a God again...if Petyr knew he was alive...

In a stroke of luck, in Jon's case at least, another babe called Jon and the exact same age had passed the same night and Petyr, in his glee had not bothered to check. Aerys had not said anything to the contrary either, insisting that he had indeed killed the child.

But now, Sansa knew Jon was in more danger than ever.

Yet it seemed that her intentions were useless anyway, given how angry Petyr appeared already by the time she reached him. He whirled around as she approached and she couldn't help but wince at the glare he sent her way.

"You've never mentioned you had a brother," he stated coldly. Behind him, Ser Dontos gave her an apologetic look.

"He's a cousin," Sansa corrected pettily.

"He is an obstacle in my plans! Plans I have had for eighteen years!"

 "Jon won't -"

"No. No he won't," Petyr hissed. "Because I will not let him!"

He turned towards the pit behind him and Sansa grimaced at the sight of the green dragon which had killed the other, paler one.

Petyr raised the whip then, a satanic glint in his eyes when the dragon screeched in fear. Sansa felt sorry for the beast in truth. It wasn't it's fault that Petyr wanted Mount Olympus.

Petyr turned to Sansa with his lecherous grin. "Jon will come instantly when he hears that a dragon is near the town."

***

"Bloody dragons now as well!"

"If only the monsoon hadn't already happened. They might be useful now."

"Was the monsoon after the earthquake?"

"Yes but before the attempted invasion of the Night King."

Theon nudged Jon towards the group gathered around the fountain, his brows raised in encouragement.

"Um...did you say dragons?" he asked hesitantly.

The red-headed man spat out the piece of bone he had inhaled accidentally and fixed a skeptical gaze upon Jon.

"You don't sound like you are from here," he commented. "Especially if you don't know about the dragons."

"Well, no, no I..." Jon started before he cleared his throat. "Um, what I mean is, it sounds like you all need a hero!"

The man took another bite of his chicken leg. "And you are?"

"Well, I..." He glanced back at Theon who gestured frantically with his hands for him to continue. "I happen to be a hero!"

The silence was deafening before suddenly the group descended into thundering laughter. Jon frowned in confusion as he watched their bodies double over with the force of their amusement. He glanced at Theon again, who gave a confused shrug.

"Hey! I know you!" the red-headed man said, pointing at Theon. "Didn't you have a hero once who died from an arrow to the ankle?"

"You're right Tormund!" a red-headed girl replied, smirking as Theon's face grew red with anger. "And wasn't there one who fell off a battlement during a battle?"

"Oh come on!" Theon yelled, pointing angrily at the crowd. "Those were one off accidents!" 

"I killed two giants," Jon intervened quickly. The group's laughter died off suddenly, replaced with suspicious looks. Jon cleared his throat, placing his hands on his hips to exude confidence. "Point me towards the dragon and I'll deal with it."

The red-head, Tormund, shook his head in disbelief before he pointed towards the hills behind them. "Over there, at the bottom of the hill is the old dragon pits. Someone said there were two fighting there just a day ago."

***

"Now don't look at me that way Sansa!" Petyr tutted as he sat down on the large rock that looked down upon the fighting pit. Sansa continued to glare through the bars of the cage he had conjured to place her in. "I can't have you warning him."

"He'll beat the dragon anyway," she retorted. Petyr merely smirked.

Below, the curious voices rose, the dragon screamed and Sansa gripped the bars tighter as she tried to see where Jon was. When Petyr leaned further across, she knew Jon must have entered the scene. 

She couldn't see a thing but hearing was worse. The yells of the crowd, the screech of the dragon piercing the air. Seeing Petyr's fascination made her blood ran cold. Every time he appeared to get excited, she felt as though her heart would beat right out of her chest. And every time Petyr would growl in annoyance, Sansa couldn't help the relieved sigh which escaped her.

The crowd suddenly went silent and Sansa started to shake with denial as Petyr turned to face her with a smug expression. His mouth opened to state something arrogant but then, he paused as the crowed suddenly cheered again. Sansa pulled herself to her feet just as the dragon soared above them, Jon on it's back and holding on for dear life. His sword glinted in the sunlight as he unsheathed it and Sansa heard Ghost yipping below as Jon plunged the sword into the dragons neck and pulled.

The ground shook with the force of which it hit the ground. Petyr stepped to the edge and peered down. As the dust cleared, the silence remained and the fragile hope which had begun to climb through Sansa's veins started to evaporate.

"It is over now," Petyr stated, turning towards her. With a wave of his hand, the cage disappeared. Sansa immediately ran to the edge, needing to see for herself. The dragon's claws moved suddenly and Sansa took a step back on instinct. The air filled with tentative gasps from the crowd.

And then the place erupted again as Jon pulled apart the claws and stepped out on wobbly legs. His trainer and Ghost ran to either side of him, pulling his arms across them to help support him. Sansa felt a laugh bubbling in her front and immediately clasped a hand to her mouth. But Petyr had heard the commotion and had returned to her side.

"Dragonknight!" A man shouted, pumping his fist in time with the words. Several more chants joined in and Sansa felt herself clapping along in complete defiance.

She remembered when they had been children, how he had always been the one to rescue her when they played monsters and maidens. And she had called him her dragonknight once too. She wondered if he would even remember such things now. She immediately sobered at the thought. Of course he wouldn't remember. He probably thought of her as nothing but his bratty little sister.  Life was not a song, she reminded herself.

She had already learned that, to her sorrow.

***

"And then I did this!" Jon explained, swinging his arms in the motion of a sword. "And you should have heard the crowd, Dad!"

"Oh we did," Robert assured him with a chuckle. "We've all been watching up here. I'm so proud of you, we all are."

"So," Jon said, sitting cross-legged in the middle of Robert's palm. "When can I come up?"

"Pardon?" Robert responded, brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Come home," Jon elaborated.

"But...Look, son," Robert sighed. "You're doing great but, well, it isn't enough."

"Isn't enough?" Jon repeated, jumping to his feet in anger. "But I've been fighting monsters for months. I'm the Dragonknight. I...I have a statue!"

"Being famous isn't the same as being a  _true_ hero!"

"What am I supposed to do?" Jon snapped.

"It is something you need to figure out for yourself," Robert explained gently. "Think of what is important to you. Or rather who."

"Sansa," Jon answered immediately. He bit his lip in shame as he thought of what the Starks would think if they had lived. "She means everything to me. She...she's home."

Robert simply smiled as he picked Jon up and placed him carefully on the floor. "Good luck, son."

***

"You might as well give up,” Sansa commented lightly, sitting on the edge of the platform and staring down at Jon below. A laugh bubbled in her throat at the thought of how frustrated Petyr was nowadays. “Jon is just batting back every curve you throw at him.”

He had grown into himself, more confident, she thought. He had always been handsome, something she had always been a little ashamed to admit because she never thought it in a sibling way but as a woman finding a man attractive. But now, with his muscles and determination, he was extremely so. He knew now what he was good at and she couldn’t help but rake her eyes over the bulging muscles of his arms.

“Well, maybe I’m not throwing the _right_ curves at him, sweetling.”

“Don’t even go there!” Sansa scoffed, glaring at him over her shoulder. She stood to move away. Petyr tutted and grasped her wrist, twisting her back into his chest.

"Remember one little detail, sweetling. I own you!" he growled, the smell of mint assaulting her senses and making her scrunch her nose. "You sold your soul to me to save Joffrey’s life, remember? And how did gallant Joffrey repay you? By having your family killed."

She hissed and wrenched her hand from his grasp, folding it protectively around her body.

"I learned my lesson okay," she mumbled, frowning down at the ground, feeling the stinging tears fill her eyes.

"Yes, but that’s why I’m offering you a new deal," Petyr continued, stepping behind her. She shuddered as his hands fell on her shoulders, his breath tickling her ear. "Find mister dragonknight's weakness," he whispered. "And I'll give you what you crave most." Her eyes widened as she felt his grin. "Your freedom."

“I can’t!” she cried instantly, even as a traitorous part of her begged for her freedom. “Jon is my cousin!”

“Where was he when Joffrey murdered your family?” Petyr countered. “I was there for you, not him. You don’t owe him anything. He didn’t even write to you.”

Sansa shook her head, turning away from him again. Petyr sighed again and once more the scent of mint filled her nostrils as he stepped up behind her.

“Okay, look. I don’t need to kill him anymore,” Petyr said softly. “I only need his strength. Find a weakness of his which would make him susceptible to a deal. That is all I’m asking.”

“You…you promise you won’t hurt him?” she murmured, turning to look at him skeptically. Petyr smiled, a hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“On my honour as a God,” he replied, placing a hand over his heart. His smile turned sickly sweet as he tilted her chin up. "Do not disappoint me, sweetling."

***

"Hey, your cute sister is coming along," Theon chuckled, leaning against the door of the house.

Jon immediately leapt to his feet and charged to Theon's side. He felt his eyes widen as he saw Sansa sauntering towards them. The blue dress she wore hugged her curves perfectly and across her chest was a sewn picture of a direwolf. His throat bobbed unconsciously when she grinned and waved at him.

"Want a day off dragonknight?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe. Theon whistled.

"He can't. But I can."

"No thanks," Sansa replied, wrinkling her nose. Theon turned to Jon.

"You did say she was your sister, right?"

"Adopted. Well, actually my cousin."

"Oh," Theon responded slowly before chuckling. "That's alright then."

Jon ignored him, instead gesturing to Sansa awkwardly. "New dress?"

She smiled, twirling before him. "I made it myself, do you like it?"

"Yeah, I, uh..." He swallowed as his brain seemed to shut off. "I like the wolf bit."

Theon snorted. Sansa grinned.

"Come on," she urged, grabbing his hand. Theon stepped up immediately.

"Nope, he needs to train!"

"I have a friend over by the fountain who would love to hear your accent," Sansa interrupted, glancing over to the marketplace. Theon immediately quietened, standing on tip toes to try and see through the crowd. Sansa smirked. "A very cute, blonde, friend."

"Be back before sundown!" Theon shouted before disappearing into the crowd. Sansa immediately took Jon's hand and tugged him away.

"Quick, before he realises I lied!" she giggled as they winded through the alleyways.

When they were on the outskirts of the city, Jon suddenly pulled to a stop when he saw the field of blue flowers before them. Sansa shot him a curious look as he stepped over and picked one.

"You always liked these best when we were children."

"You remembered?" she replied in shock as she tentatively took the flower.

"Of course I do," Jon responded, taking her hands in his own. "Sansa, I...I really missed you."

"I missed you too," she whispered.

And if it hadn't been for the way her eyes softened or how her tongue darted out to lick her lips, perhaps he would have been able to think before acting. But instead, he leaned forward and so did she, their breath mingling right before their lips touched and -

"Alright, break it up!" Theon yelled, shoving them apart and holding them at arm's length with his palms on their chests. He poked Sansa's shoulder. "You liar!" he hissed before turning to Jon. "And you, you lazy bastard. You're going to be working until your feet burn into the ground.

"Okay, okay!" Jon replied. He could still feel the goofy grin on his face as he looked at Sansa, even as Theon ushered him away with impatient shushing noises.

Sansa gave him a wave, her heart still thundering in her chest. All these years she had denied her feelings for Jon, thinking there was something wrong with her. But the way Jon had looked at her then...

Part of her screamed not to be so stupid again, that she would only end up getting hurt  _again._ But she had never known a time when she didn't love Jon. And if his looks had been anything to go by, or the fact he had leaned in first, then perhaps she wasn't so wrong after all.

"So...what do you have for me, dearest?"

She jumped at the sound of Petyr's voice, instantly hiding the flower behind her back. She glowered and shook her head.

"Do whatever you want to do," she stated. "I won't help you hurt him."

"Oh Sansa," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I guess freedom meant nothing to you."

"I don't care," she repeated. She brought the flower back around, smiling gently as she touched the petals. "Besides," she continued, smirking at him. "He's going to destroy your plans and when he will kill you as soon as he becomes a God again when I tell him how you tricked me!"

Petyr's glare suddenly disappeared and too late, Sansa realised her mistake. He grasped her wrist, forcing her chin up to look at him.

"Seems like I have found Mister Dragon knight's weakness after all!"


	5. A true hero

Ghost was out on a hunt when they returned to the stadium for training.

“She used to sing all the time as well,” Jon said, grinning like an idiot. “She had such a beautiful voice.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Theon replied, giving the tracks a meaningful glance.

“If you ever fall in love, you’ll understand,” Jon insisted as he stretched. Theon scoffed.

“Love is for idiots,” he commented dryly. “I just need some fun from the ladies, not love.”

Jon shrugged before he started his run around the track. He was so absorbed in his thoughts of Sansa, he didn’t pay attention to what was going on around him. So when he circled around and saw Theon was nowhere in sight, he halted and shot a confused look around the walls.

When the torches flickered, he immediately reached for his sword.

“Can we please not resort to violence?” a smooth voice greeted him. Jon whirled around to stare at the man who had appeared behind him. “Petyr Baelish, lord of the underworld. You’re Jon, I know. So, now that introductions are done, let me skip to the main point. You have something I want and need.”

“I don’t have anything except this sword,” Jon countered, tightening his grip instinctively. Petyr merely smiled.

“You have inhuman strength,” he responded simply. “It hasn’t exactly been a gift has it? I mean, it made you an outcast as a kid and now, well it hasn’t made you a hero has it?”

“I’m not interested in fighting you.”

“Okay look,” Petyr sighed. He clicked his fingers and, in a whirl of smoke, Sansa was before them. Her body was bound and a cloth covered her mouth. Petyr stepped up behind her. “Is Sansa a good enough price for your strength?”

“Don’t you dare hurt her!” Jon snarled, lunging for Petyr’s throat. Only, he fell right through as though he was made of dust. Petyr tutted.

“I guess she isn’t important then.” He gave Sansa a sad smile before looking to Jon once more. “Your strength for Sansa’s freedom.”

“I…You promise Sansa won’t get hurt?” Jon asked, ignoring how Sansa frantically shook her head.

“Yes, yes. Sansa is safe or you get your powers right back.” He waved a hand impatiently before fixing him with a determined stare. “Going once. Going twice.”

“Alright!” Jon shouted, thrusting his hand forward. Sansa made an inhuman noise, her head still furiously shaking even as Petyr’s hand clasped his own.

Jon gasped as he felt the strength literally sucked out of him, leaving him to sink to his knees helplessly. As he fought not to be sick, he heard Petyr’s glee. He clicked his fingers and the binds around Sansa disappeared.

“Thank you sweetling,” Petyr murmured, kissing Sansa’s cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“No!” Sansa gasped, wriggling out of Petyr’s grasp and shooting Jon a pleading look. “It wasn’t like that! I…”

“She was in on it the whole time,” Petyr cackled. He outstretched his hands. “Sorry to be rude, but there is a throne up there I have been trying to get for eighteen years. Thanks for the business, dragonknight.”

Sansa rushed to Jon’s side but he jerked away from her touch. “You lied to me!” he snarled.

“I…I’m sorry!” she whispered. “It wasn’t…I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“Stay away from me!” he snapped as he forced himself to his feet.

“Jon, please, just listen to me!”

“Just…leave me alone!”

Sansa opened her mouth, ready to argue again. But she knew Jon was too upset to listen right now. She did know however, that he would listen to Theon. And she knew where he was.

Rushing out of the stadium, she wrenched open the doors to the storage base. Theon’s wide eyes found hers and he struggled in his binds.

“I know, I know!” she stated as she moved behind him to untie him. “He used Ros to lure you in huh?”

“Hey, redheads are my weakness sweetheart,” he chuckled as she pulled the gag from him.

“Jon is in trouble,” she responded. “We need to find Ghost.”

But it turned out, they didn’t have to look far as Ghost came bounding towards them as soon as they stepped into the street again. He whined as he bumped against Sansa’s hip and she reached down to ruffle his ears.

“I know boy,” she whispered. “We’ll find him though. Everything will be alright.”

***

The streets were empty as the sky raged above. Thunder roared and there were streaks of red everywhere. Everyone had taken cover as darkness descended and the threats became ever more real.

Jon slumped to the ground, placing his head in his hands and berating himself. Of course, he should have known that his love for Sansa was unrequieted. He had told himself all his life how wrong it was but in that moment, he had really thought…

“Are you the dragonknight?” a boy asked, approaching him slowly. Jon scoffed, shaking his head.

“Not anymore,” he replied, his head hanging down so he didn’t see the boy nod above them. “I was an idiot in love.”

“Jon, look out!” Sansa’s voice called out before she was shoving him away, just as the kid thrust a dagger forward. It went under Sansa’s arm and she stepped back quickly. But then another man grabbed her from behind, his knife thrusting into her back.

“For Mount Olympus,” he sneered to Jon, shoving Sansa aside.

Jon screamed, pushing the child in front of him without thinking. He yelled as he soared through the air and collided with a pillar before slumping to the ground, where he lay still and silent.

“Ollie!” the older man gasped before snarling at Jon. “You will regret that bastard!”

White flashed before his eyes before Ghost shoved the man to the ground and the night was filled with the gurgling sound as the wolf went straight for the throat.

Jon skidded beside Sansa, holding her head on his lap. “Sansa. Stay with me.”

“You got your strength back,” she murmured, her eyes struggling to stay open. “You have to stop Petyr.”

“I won’t leave you,” he hissed, a hand brushing across her forehead. “Sansa, why would you get involved like that? You knew it was dangerous.”

She smiled, her eyes drifting closed. “People do crazy things,” she sighed. “When they’re in love.”

“Sansa,” he breathed, clutching her closer still.

“Stop him,” she begged, clutching his arm. “I’ll be here.”

“I’ll watch over her kid!”

Jon bit his lip, reluctant to leave her. But Ghost padded beside him, his red eyes pinning Jon in place with a determined stare and he knew he didn’t really have a choice.

“I’ll come back,” he promised. “Come, Ghost!”

***

Chaos.

It had always been an ally to him.

And now, as he watched the Gods fall back, one by one, either killed or trapped, he continued forward, basking in the cries that told of his victory.

Robert stood before him, war hammer held high and proud above his head. Lyanna on his other side, teeth and claws bared like a wolf. Arya stood on the other, clad in her wolf armour and a sword glinting when it caught the torchlight.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Robert snarled.

"Yes," Petyr agreed as he signaled the titans forward. "You should have."

"Petyr! Give up and I'll let you live!"

He didn't need Arya's shout of Jon to know just who had called. He turned to face the boy with an irritated growl as he came through the destroyed gates, body shaking with rage.

"I am sorry something happened to Sansa, truly!" he addressed Jon, placing a hand on his heart for emphasis. "She is dear to me too."

"Don't you  _ever_ say her name in front of me again!" Jon snarled. His beast stepped beside him, terrifying with the anger he felt from his master.

"Stick them with the pointy end Jon!" Arya shouted, a wicked grin spreading across her face as she leapt into the heart of the fighting.

"No, don't engage with the boy!" Petyr called, reaching for a titan's arm only to be tossed backwards.

One by one, Jon snapped their necks or sliced their knees, bringing them to their fate. Arya, Lyanna and Robert skirted between the fray to help deliver the final blow to each one Jon sent their way. Petyr felt the rage bubbling inside him and burst forth with a mighty scream.

"You may have won this time mister dragon knight!" he called as he lifted his hand, fingers pressing together, ready. "But I have one great consolation prize. A friend of yours who is  _dying_ to see me."

"Sansa!" Jon cried as Petyr disappeared, his laugh echoing around them.

Instantly, he leapt onto Ghost. The wolf needed no further encouragement, already jumping from the edge of the mountain and sliding back down to the ground. Jon clung to Ghost's neck as he hurtled forward. Faster, he thought desperately, feeling Ghost's mind struggle with the demand. He was going as fast as he could but it wasn't fast enough, not at all. 

_Don't let me be too late. Don't let her die!_

He could see Theon ahead, sitting by Sansa's side where he left them. But even as he flew from Ghost before the wolf had even stopped, he knew from Theon's slumped shoulders that he had been too late.

_I failed her again. I never deserved her love._

"I'm sorry kid," Theon murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder as he took Sansa's limp body in his arms and pressed her close to his chest. She was already cold, her beautiful blue eyes closed forever. He buried his face into her neck as he howled with grief.

"There are just some things you can't change," Theon continued sadly. Jon froze, an idea forming in his mind.

"Yes I can."

***

Petyr had some nerve, Jon thought as he entered the underworld to see him sitting upon a throne like chair. But to Jon, Petyr had won really. He had Sansa now and that was the thing Jon couldn't bare.

"Where is Sansa?!" he demanded, advancing towards the man with malicious intent.

"She is mine now," Petyr replied with a smirk. He stood, proud still even after his defeat. Jon growled, his fist clenching and unclenching by his side as he fought not to take Petyr's bait. The man had Sansa now but Jon wasn't going to leave without her.

"Here she is," Petyr continued, pointing down into the pool below. Sure enough, Jon could see the white essence of her soul floating across the green liquid. "And when she reaches the bottom, well, she is all mine, forever."

"Take me instead," Jon said instantly. Petyr chuckled but immediately quieted when Jon glared at him. "Set her free. Please, she....she deserves to live a happy life. I...I don't have anything without her."

Petyr's smile was manic as he outstretched his hand. "You have a deal. Go in there and get her. She goes. You stay." Jon immediately grasped his hand and then leapt into the pool. "I should mention you'll be dead before you even reach her!" Petyr called out.

Already, Jon could feel his muscles becoming heavier, his heart beginning to slow even as he pushed himself forward. She was so close, her hand reaching out slowly as though her soul knew he was there. Just, a little further...

The world went bright as his fingers clasped her wrist and pulled her towards him. He swam back to the edge and reached out to pull himself out, eyes widening at the way his hands had wrinkled and then instantly returned normal. Petyr stared at him with a slack jaw.

"You...you can't be alive. You...you would have to be a...a..."

"God?" Jon offered, mouth twitching in a smirk.

"Sansa is mine!"

"I told you never to mention her name in front of me again!" Jon growled, clenching his fist and delivering a hard punch to Petyr's face. The force sent him stumbling backwards but Jon didn't even spare a glance as he cried out and splashed into the water. Petyr didn't deserve an audience to his death as far as Jon was concerned.

Theon stuttered in shock as Jon moved towards Sansa's body. As the soul sunk back inside of her, her chest heaved with a heavy breath and her eyes opened. She blinked several times, brows furrowed as she looked at him.

"Jon," she whispered. "Why would you...?"

"People do crazy things, when they're in love," he replied, helping to pull her to a stand. He cupped her cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "Besides, I'm your dragon knight, remember?"

"I suppose I should reward you with a kiss then," she teased, leaning forward.

A sudden clap of thunder made them jump apart right before a piece of cloud appeared beneath Jon's feet. He tugged Sansa close as it moved suddenly, hurtling through the air. Behind him, he could hear Theon's screams as Ghost carried him up the mountain as well.

The gates had been restored, Mount Olympus looked magnificent again. He helped Sansa step off the cloud, gripping her hand tightly as he moved forward. The Gods were cheering around them and there, at the top of the stairs, were his parents with matching proud smiles.

"You did it, my boy!" Robert proclaimed happily.

"You were willing to give your life for Sansa," Lyanna added, looking down at them fondly. 

"Because a hero isn't measured by the test of his strength, but by the strength of his heart," Robert stated, stepping down the stairs and throwing an arm around Jon. "And now, at last, you can come home!"

The crowd surged forward, swallowing him up. He shook so many hands, smiled at everyone until he glanced behind him and saw Sansa and Theon at the edge of the mountain, ready to depart.

"Wait!" Jon said suddenly, pushing through the crowd until he could grasp Sansa's hands. "I have wanted to belong somewhere my entirely life," he explained. "And I thought, maybe this would be it." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "But, Sansa. She is everything I want. She is my family, she's my home. I...I know now that I can't live without her." He smiled as Sansa's eyes filled with tears. "So, if she'll have me, I would like to stay on Earth with her."

"Of course I will have you!" Sansa cried, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth desperately to his.

"Well, we can't very well prevent your happiness," Robert said after a moment. He cleared his throat when Jon and Sansa still didn't part. Only when Theon rolled his eyes and tugged on Sansa's braid did they appear to remember where they were and give sheepish grins at the few in the crowd, like Arya, who whooped.

"You're mortal again," Lyanna said gently. "May your life be long and happy together."

And years later, as Sansa sat outside the farmhouse and nursed their fourth child, their first daughter, Jon couldn't help but think that they had done just that. And would continue to do so.

 


End file.
